


Too Much Information

by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)



Series: Morphology [7]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alana Blushing, Beverly Katz is the Best, Beverly Perving, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Friendship, Gen, Gossip, M/M, Ridiculous, Silly, Sleepovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1345945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqen_hgar/pseuds/Finely%20Honed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Abigail spends the night at Alana's, she recruits Beverly as backup. She should have known better. Abigail dishes some dirt about life with Will and Hannibal, and Alana may never stop blushing as a result.</p><p> <br/>A fun little <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1037699">Not to Die of the Truth</a> interlude. Takes place between Chapters 21 and 22, and contains mild spoilers for that fic. Refers to The Arrangement Will & Hannibal come to at the end of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/934550">The Imposition of Order and Harmony on a Design</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much Information

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spocktacular](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spocktacular/gifts), [TimmyJaybird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/gifts).



> This totally indulgent fic exists thanks to a comment left by spocktacular over on [Not to Die of the Truth](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1037699), and also due to Madni's love of an affectionately tortured Alana Bloom. It's far too silly to fit as a chapter in that fic, but I cannot resist poking at poor Alana!

Beverly was hunched over wheezing with a white knuckled grip on the edge of the table, as if it was the only thing preventing her from falling off of her chair, and hitting the floor. Hard. “Why?” she gasped, looking to Alana for help, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“It’ll be okay, just breathe,” Alana insisted, trying to project a calm she didn’t currently feel. “There you go, you’ll be okay. In through the nose, that’s right.”

Alana had to look away, not wanting Beverly to see her lose the battle with her facial expression; it would all unravel, plunging them back under. A trembling hand pressed to her mouth, she glared at Abigail. “I hope you know this is all your fault.”

 

~~~~~~~ Four and a Half Hours Earlier ~~~~~~~

 

“I need your help.”

“Hi,” Beverly said, ignoring Alana’s statement. “I’m great, thanks for asking.”

“This is serious,” Alana hissed, and Beverly stopped what she was doing, glancing around to make sure the boys were out of earshot. There were strange noises coming from the other end of the line, but then Alana was back. “Abigail is spending the night.”

“Okay…”

“I know, I _will_ ,” Alana yelled, forgetting to cover the mouthpiece. Beverly switched ears, holding the phone slightly away from her head in case there was more shouting forthcoming. “We’re only just starting to get along again, I need interference or by the morning she’ll have killed me. Or I’ll have killed her. Either way, _help_.”

Beverly tried not to laugh, and failed. “Right. So, are you seriously inviting me to a slumber party right now?” Alana made some strange noises on the other end of the line, which Beverly took as a yes. “Great, sounds like fun! I’ll bring movies. You both like Ryan Gosling, right? Why am I asking, everyone likes Gosling. Can we drink?”

“You’re way too happy about this,” Alana said, somehow managing to make it sound grateful and indignant at the same time. “And yes, if it was just me and I drank, it would be weird, but if you’re here and we’re both drinking, then technically Abigail is supervising us, and now that I think about it that’s also really weird.”

“But we still get to drink, right?” Beverly’s tone made it clear that if the answer wasn’t ‘yes’ she’d be keeping her pajama clad bottom at home that evening.

Alana’s voice had never sounded more serious. “Yes. Lots.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alana should have known she was in for it when Beverly showed up already wearing her pajamas, which were pink and covered with little skulls. “I feel overdressed, now.”

“Because you are,” Beverly pointed out with a wink. She snuck past Alana, exclaiming, “Abi!”

“Bev!” Abigail replied, and then they were hugging. Alana was immediately relieved that she had invited her friend. She was certain once Abigail actually had the baby, and everything began to normalize, that they’d work out the kinks in their relationship. For now, though, it was good to have a buffer, even if it made her slightly jealous that Abigail was so easy going with Beverly.

Pizza had arrived, they’d unpacked the various alcoholic beverages Beverly had brought with her, popped in a movie, and everything was fine. Better than fine, it was actually fun. As soon as Beverly cracked the first joke at the movie’s expense, that opened the floodgates, and they kept up a running commentary throughout, half of the dialogue drowned out by their own laughter. The booze didn’t hurt, either. About halfway through the movie, Alana was wondering what she’d been worried about in the first place.

“Popcorn,” Beverly announced as the ending credits went up. “It is mandatory if we’re going to continue.”

“Seconded,” Abigail chimed in. She had also switched to pajamas, although it was hard to tell what she was wearing since Will’s dogs were circled around her, or draped over her. Alana had secretly wanted to snuggle with Winston during the movie, but the pack seemed focused on making sure nothing could get close to Abigail. Alana managed to convince herself it was because Abigail was pregnant, not because the dogs liked her better.

The pregnant woman in question began waving her hands, and somehow Beverly understood this to mean she was supposed to go over and help Abigail extract herself from the pile of dogs and pillows.

Alana finished the last of her beer. “I’m going to get changed,” she said, ignoring the ‘finally’ both Beverly and Abigail sent her way, “and then popcorn it is! Meet you in the kitchen.”

She should have known better than to leave them alone. When she came back, Beverly was sitting at the kitchen table with her chin resting on her hands, staring at Abigail with wide, manic eyes. Both seemed to notice her arrival at the same time, and Beverly gestured enthusiastically at Alana. “Did you know about the thing?”

“What thing?”

“I doubt they told her, Will would be embarrassed,” Abigail said.

Beverly looked like she wanted to implode with curiosity. Alana had seen the look before. “What _thing_?” she asked again, becoming concerned.

Beverly took a moment to collect herself. “Okay, so, Abi here was just about to tell me all of the juicy details involving some ‘arrangement’ Will and Hannibal have that results in Hannibal having to wear _denim_.”

“I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t,” Abigail said, clearly enjoying her newfound power as keeper of the information.

“It’s too late, now,” Alana said with a laugh. She accepted the drink Beverly was shoving in her general direction, and set about digging the microwave popcorn and a big bowl out of the cabinet. “She won’t give up until you tell her.”

“It’s true, I’m single minded that way,” Beverly admitted, sounding comically serious as she placed a hand over her chest, and ducked her head as if in shame. “I swear, pinky swear, on all that is sacred about sleepovers, I will not let on that you told us. Neither will Alana, right?”

Alana was too scared to disagree. Beverly had fire in her eyes. She held up her hand as if taking an oath. “My lips are sealed.”

Abigail took a sip of her hot chocolate purely for dramatic effect before slouching back in her chair. “Right. So, Bev had mentioned something about how strange it was to see Hannibal looking all scruffy since Will has been in the hospital.”

“It _is_ weird, isn’t it?” Alana chimed in, taking a long, thoughtful sip of her beer.

She’d known Hannibal the longest out of anyone there, and found it to be particularly disconcerting to see him in a state of disarray at the hospital. And unfortunately sexy. His idea of casual dress was removing his vest and tie while cooking, and she could still recall the first time she’d seen him with his sleeves rolled up, and how just that amount of exposed skin had seemed scandalous. She didn’t need to be reminded how attractive the man was, thank you very much. It had been bad enough as a student, and had taken quite a bit of work to quash her crush.

“If by weird you mean hot, then yes,” Beverly said, and Alana felt herself blush, hoped no one noticed. “So, I mentioned the scruffy, and Ms. Abigail Hobbs says…”

“That time of the month just came a little early, is all,” Abigail finished.

Beverly clapped her hands, making a little squealing noise of delight, and Alana drank once more. She had a feeling she was really, really going to need to be tipsy for this.

“Right, so… I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but Hannibal is a bit of a neat freak,” Abigail began, getting an easy laugh from her audience, “and kind of the poster child for fancypants guys everywhere. Meanwhile, Will fishes, collects dogs, and repairs diesel engines. Since they’re them, they came up with a bunch of house rules ahead of moving in together, like Will gets total ownership of the garage, and can be as messy as he wants in there, and we all get to vote before more dogs show up. Hannibal isn’t allowed to be an obsessive compulsive maniac with our stuff, but he does get the final say so in anything involving the kitchen, his office, and the bathrooms.”

“I love them so much,” Beverly exclaimed. “They made little rules, how adorable is that?”

“It seems more practical than adorable,” Alana said with a chuckle.

Abigail cleared her throat. “Now, the details change a bit depending on which of them you talk to, but apparently there was some big fight ages ago involving Will’s dogs.”

“Oh,” Alana exclaimed, interrupting. “I remember this! Hannibal was constantly washing Will’s dogs; it was their first argument.”

“Of course he’s a compulsive dog washer!” Beverly said at the same time Abigail said, “So you already know the story?”

Alana tried very hard not to roll her eyes, and even managed to look repentant. If Abigail felt like her storytelling thunder was being stolen, she’d stop, which meant Beverly would kill them both in their sleep. “No, sorry, just the bit about the dog washing. Please continue.”

After a dramatic pause, Abigail took pity on them. “Well, I noticed something weird when we first started living together. It seemed like every couple of weeks, Hannibal wouldn’t shave, and would spend the weekend wearing clothes he’d normally never be caught dead in, like really tight, old t-shirts, and jeans. Apparently, they have a whole kinky arrangement where Hannibal has to be all dirty and normal for one weekend out of the month.”

“That sounds sweet,” Alana said, although she was having a difficult time imagining Hannibal wearing a t-shirt.

“Believe me, it’s kinky. I live with them, remember?”

Beverly took Abigail by the hand. “Please explain the kinky.”

Alana wondered if she could cover her ears without being teased. The microwave beeped, and she was thankful to have some task upon which to focus her attention.

“They think they’re totally subtle, but whenever it’s one of those weekends Will basically stalks Hannibal around the house, looking for excuses to rub up against him, or smell him. Have you seen their eye fucking?”

“Abigail!” Alana exclaimed, not sure why she felt she needed to correct the choice of language. Abigail was going to be a mother soon, so it was a bit out of step to scold her over profanity, all things considered.

“Shh shh shh,” Beverly said, whipping around to glare at Alana. “You shut up, now.” It was affectionately said, but also dead serious. She refocused her attention on Abigail. “I’ve definitely seen it. We went out for drinks with them this one time, and I almost didn’t survive.”

“Right, so you know what I mean. They don’t even say anything half the time, but you feel dirty just being in the same room with them. Hannibal starts touching inanimate objects, and licking his lips, and Will swallows way too much while watching said touching and licking. After an hour or two of that, they disappear, and then the noises start.”

“Should we,” Alana began to ask. It wasn’t so much that she was a prude, as it was that she felt like she was invading the privacy of her friends by hearing what she was hearing. Neither Beverly nor Abigail seemed to take note of the beginnings of her objections, though, and continued talking over her.

“You wouldn’t believe the noises. At least I got a TV for my room out of it.”

“I want to believe the noises,” Beverly said reverently, finishing her drink, and snapping her fingers at Alana for another to be handed over.

“Well, the thing you have to understand is, there are different noises for different activities,” Abigail began. Even though she knew she’d regret it for the rest of her days, Alana placed the popcorn down on the table, along with more drinks, and settled into the free seat. “Also, I should probably mention that Will is the big offender, here. Hannibal almost always manages to be quiet enough that I can’t hear him.”

“I’m dying,” Beverly whispered, shoveling a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “Does he get screamy, or what?”

Alana definitely did not want to imagine Will screaming with pleasure. Nope. Did. Not. She followed Beverly’s lead and occupied herself with popcorn, washing it down with a healthy dose of beer. They might need more beer. She might not survive this. Her ears were already pink, and she should really be mature, and respectful, and, “I bet he’s more of a moaner.”

Abigail and Beverly both turned to face her, eyes wide with delight. Alana was still trying to figure out why and how she had managed to say that outloud. Beverly went so far as to grab Alana’s hand, and squeezed it a little too hard while making more of those high pitched happy noises. Abigail was just shaking her finger at Alana, smirking. “Exactly! He’s a _moaner_. But not all of the time.”

Beverly was clearly having way, way too much fun with the revelation, as was evidenced by her almost knocking her beer over when she slapped her hands down on the table. “So are scruffy weekends _moaner_ weekends, or other noise weekends?”

Abigail waved her hands as if Beverly was getting ahead of herself. “Okay, I need to back up just a bit. Before we all moved in together, Will and Hannibal only had to worry about the dogs hearing them. Then we’re all together, and it’s business as usual, only they forgot to ask about how sound carries in the new place.”

“I’m definitely dying,” Beverly said while Abigail took a moment to enjoy some popcorn. “The best possible death ever.”

“So they’re just going at it, like they do, and I’m getting woken up at odd hours, or having to put on headphones, or take the dogs on a long walk, because it’s like we’re family! It isn’t nearly as hot as you’d think, it’s _annoying_. I started turning it into an observational exercise to maintain my own sanity.” Alana had her head in her hands, and was trying very hard not to let them see her laughing. “I just want to make it clear that I was subjected to this, it wasn’t like I was snooping around at their bedroom door.”

“Makes total sense,” Alana said, wanting the conversation to end, and oh, look, there was another beer finished. She was going to have a headache in the morning.

“Right, so, I discovered the moans are reserved for when Will is getting fucked.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Alana asked incredulously, while Beverly began howling with delighted laughter.

“Because they’re these open, whimpery, vulnerable, hard to imitate moans, with this little hitch that happens part way through, which I’m guessing is caused by Hannibal’s thrusting,” Abigail explained. Then the worst possible thing happened; she attempted to recreate the moans. “It’s like he just… fucks the noises out of Will. My imitation is awful, I’m sure if we did some Googling, we’d be able to find an example.”

Beverly was hunched over wheezing with a white knuckled grip on the edge of the table, as if it was the only thing preventing her from falling off of her chair, and hitting the floor. Hard. “Why?” she gasped, looking to Alana for help, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“It’ll be okay, just breathe,” Alana insisted, trying to project a calm she didn’t currently feel. “There you go, you’ll be okay. In through the nose, that’s right.”

Alana had to look away, not wanting Beverly to see her lose the battle with her facial expression; it would all unravel, plunging them back under. A trembling hand pressed to her mouth, she glared at Abigail. “I hope you know this is all your fault.”

“I do,” Abigail answered, smiling far too innocently.

“Why did we wait so long to have this sleepover?” Beverly finally managed to say, wiping the tears from her face. “Oh, man,” and then she was laughing again, taking Alana with her.

“So, the moans are definitely when Will is on the receiving end. When he’s topping, though, it’s more grunting, and groaning,” she continued, helping herself to more popcorn. “Usually the scruffy weekends involve a lot of groaning, but I swear most of the time they just flip a coin. Or switch part way through, if they can’t make up their minds.”

“Oh, Abi, I love you so much right now,” Beverly wheezed. This time, she got Alana a beer, making sure to give Abigail a squeeze before taking her seat again. “What about oral?”

Alana wanted to die. She was never going to be able to look Will in the eyes again, because he’d instantly know that she knew about all of his sex noises, and that would be that. She’d have to quit her job, move, maybe change her name.

“Well, there were the general pleasure noises, which were more gaspy groans, and involved lots of ‘oh yeah, just like that’ sort of remarks. Thankfully, I don’t hear much of that anymore.”

Unable to help herself, Alana asked, “Why not?” while Beverly chanted, “just like that!” and continued giggling.

“I was tired, and hormonal, and decided it was worth the awkwardness to just break it to them that the bedroom isn’t exactly soundproof. Hannibal was very sweet, and repentant, and Will pretty much ran away.”

 **"** Oh, so Hannibal has been trying to keep him quiet,” Beverly interjected, looking incredibly thoughtful as she spoke around a mouthful of popcorn, “hence the general pleasure noises being phased out.”

“Yup! Only Will has a hard time keeping quiet during the rest, which is why he felt bad, and bought me a TV for my bedroom. It does a pretty good job drowning out most of the sound.”

“How awkward was that talk?” Beverly laughed, holding her sides.

“Will still avoids me when he knows he probably got a little louder than he should have,” Abigail admitted, smiling. “Hannibal was more concerned that the baby is being exposed to TV in utero.”

“Of course he is,” Alana said, unable to hold back her laugh. Since her drinks were finally catching up with her, and she was already doomed to moving, and never being able to have a conversation with Will without blushing incriminatingly, she asked, “So does Hannibal get to dress him up?”

“Well, every once in awhile he’ll drag Will along to some art function, or other Hannibal type entertainment, but it isn’t built into the arrangement. He does cut Will’s hair for him now, though.”

“No wonder it’s so much better,” Beverly exclaimed. “You know, he shaves him sometimes, too. I called Will on it this one time, and he turned bright pink.”

“His hair really is better,” Alana had to admit. “We’re really bad friends, by the way. How embarrassed would he be to know we spent the night talking about all of this?”

They all looked guilty, but Beverly was the first to crack. “I’m sorry, they’re both just too hot together to not talk about. I’m sure they talk about us.”

“Probably,” Abigail said with a shrug, throwing some popcorn to the dogs. “They talk a lot. It’s not like we’re being hateful, or anything, Alana. It’s… nice.”

“How is it nice?”

Abigail shrugged again, and smiled softly. “Well, okay, so maybe _we’re_ not being exactly nice, but I’m happy for them. It’s nice for _them_ , to have that together.” ****

“They’re almost disgustingly gorgeous together,” Beverly said.

“It’s more than that,” Abigail insisted, toying with the popcorn bowl. “I don’t know, I’m pretty sure they both had awful childhoods, and I doubt they were ever in love before. The sex noises are fun to tease them about, but the rest is just really… sweet.” ****

Alana liked the sound of sweet. Sweet didn’t usually lead to blushing, or burning ears. Before she could encourage Abigail to continue, though, Beverly was motioning for her to go on. ****

“Okay, sweet things. Oh, Hannibal actually made an effort to be friends with the dogs. He has them all trained, now, so they stay off of the furniture, and each has a little repertoire of tricks they’ll do only for him, because he commands them in Russian. And he has a collection of recipes, just for the dogs.”

“I don’t know how he keeps the dog hair off of his clothes,” Alana said, thinking of her own clothing since the dogs came to stay with her.

“It’s called being OCD.”

“More sweet!” ****

“Maybe we should stop drinking,” Alana suggested.

Beverly gave her big puppy dog eyes, and swatted Alana’s hands away from her beer. “I need to live vicariously. Just a little more sweet, and then we’ll go watch the next movie, promise.”

Abigail was grinning ear to ear, and Alana caved in, nodding her consent. “I walked in the kitchen once, and Hannibal was doing dishes like everything was normal, only Will was hugging him from behind, with his face all nestled between Hannibal’s shoulder blades.”

“Awww!” Beverly looked like she might actually cry.

“Hannibal will go fishing with him, which if you saw him in the fishing getup, you’d pee yourself. Um, oh, he’ll draw Will, when Will is distracted by other things, like reading.”

“Okay, that is pretty sweet,” Alana said, and her mind conjured up an image of the men in some romantic location, like a balcony in Paris, with Hannibal endlessly sketching the object of his affection. She wanted to punch Beverly for putting her in a situation where her brain betrayed her in such sappy, uncharacteristic ways.

“It’s also kind of sad,” and Abigail’s voice was a little softer, a little less playful. “It’s like he’s trying to memorize every detail, before he doesn’t have it anymore. Both of them, really, because you’ll catch Will watching Hannibal the same way.”

“If they break up, I’m killing myself,” Beverly interjected, and this time Alana successfully confiscated her beer. Beverly gave her a look. “Not really, but it would be a crime against humanity if it happened.”

“They’re too crazy for anyone else,” Abigail said, although it was hard to understand, since her mouth was full. “I’m pretty sure they never even had real friends before each other.”

“Hey!” Alana objected, throwing some popcorn at Abigail, who deflected it, much to the delight of the circling dogs.

“Other than you,” Abigail conceded, her hands raised in surrender. “I’m just saying, it would be hard for them to go back to the way things were before.”

Beverly sighed, and slung an arm around Alana’s shoulders. “Maybe we just need to give up, and fall in love with each other.”

“How about if we’re both still single when we hit fifty, we go for it?” They shook on it. “Until then, we can just drink, go to karaoke nights, and try to find boyfriends.”

“And babysit, so I can find one, too,” Abigail added. “Speaking of the baby, I have to go pee for like the thousandth time today.”

“Meet you in front of the TV,” Beverly called after her, sighing once more when she was out of earshot. “This is the best sleepover, ever.” And with that, she planted a big kiss on Alana’s cheek, grabbed up the remaining popcorn, the beer Alana had confiscated, and headed for the couch.

This time, everyone had a dog to snuggle with, and Alana found herself smiling a particularly tipsy, happy sort of smile. Abigail had included her as a potential babysitter, which was significant progress. And sure, she might not have an exotic, accented boyfriend that spent his free time sketching her on a Parisian balcony, but she had Beverley, which was a gift in and of itself.

“To friendship,” she proposed as the next movie began, raising her beer. Abigail raised her glass of water, and Beverly her own bottle.

“Friendship!”

There was the satisfying clinking of glass on glass, things quieted down, and just as Alana thought she was safe, she heard a barely suppressed giggle, followed by a throaty, “Just like that.” Once the moaning started up, followed by helpful suggestions for improvements from Abigail, Alana just buried her face in her hands, and gave up. She might even have been smiling when she did so.

 


End file.
